A fucking gray day
by nityge
Summary: Reviews are welcomed.
1. Chapter - A fucking gray day

**A fucking gray day**

It is a gray day. The weather is not what you expect from a summer day. But it fits with what lies before him. The burial of Frank Mathison.

Quinn sighs deeply. He cannot believe that Carrie's dad is gone. Last week they had been working together assembling the baby's crib. Frank had been happy and full of anticipation. He talked about his plans after the baby's arrival. 'Now he will never hold her. That's so sad.' Quinn grabs his car keys and leaves the house.

* * *

The sudden death of Frank had been a shock to his family and friends. But Carrie has taken it worst. Burdened by the same mental illness she and her dad had been very close. Frank had been always protective and supportive. But he also took Carrie into responsibility to handle her illness and not to ignore it. It seemed that with his death she lost her will to live healthy. Her evil demons were back. She hasn't been talking and refused to eat. Maggie was concerned that she would harm the baby and herself and called Quinn for help. But when he showed up at Carrie's place she went upstairs and locked herself into her room. For few seconds he was thinking to break down her door. But instead he sat down in front of her door and began talking about the moments he had shared with her dad. A silent sobbing convinced him that Carrie's numbing has begun to dissolve.

* * *

A crowd of 50 people has gathered to give Frank Mathison the last honor. You can hear a lot of sobbing as his family and friends are listening to the priest's words. Words that should give comfort. But Carrie doesn't hear those words. She is staring at her dad's coffin. Behind her stands Quinn prepared to support her if she needs him. But she stands straight, no sobbing, no sign of weakness. When the coffin goes down she shakes her head in disbelief.

Her sister Maggie puts her arm around her. In search of comfort she bends her head on Carrie's shoulder. But Carrie isn't able to give her solace. She feels numb and empty. She doesn't even notice that the baby kicks inside her.

When the endless row of condolences is over Carrie turns towards Quinn. "Take me back home."

* * *

They don't talk on their ride back to her apartment. Carrie is thankful that Quinn doesn't try to start a conversation. And Quinn doesn't want to force her.

When the car finally stops in front of her home, he turns to her. "May I can come in and have a drink?"

He's not expecting a positive response. But to his surprise she replies: "Yes, sure. But I can offer only coffee."

"Fine with me."

* * *

Her place looks like no one's living there. It's neat and quite fashionable. 'Looks like a damn glossy magazine.' He misses the cozy disarray of the past that somehow belonged to Carrie. How often he has teased her about her way to cover her wall with colorful notepads. It has been only a josh. He truly admires her ability to sort things out until she finds the key point. 'No one is able to perceive things like her.'

He nips on his coffee while Carrie is getting changed upstairs. 'I should take a look at the nursery if everything is ready.'

The little room upstairs beside Carrie's bedroom looks sunny and very friendly. The walls have been painted in a faint pastel yellow. There is a changing table with a soft pad and the old crib which he and Frank had assembled together.

In the other corner stands a cozy rocking chair with some cushions. Frank Mathison's last project, his ultimate gift to his granddaughter. The sight of the rocking chair is too much for Quinn's composure. He hasn't shed a tear during the funeral. But now he cannot longer hold back his tears. He cries for the lost of his fatherly friend who treated him with such warmth and generosity. Quinn wonders if Frank had recognized what he feels for Carrie. He remembers their last conversation and Frank's encouraging words: "I am glad that you are there for her." He sits down the rocking chair and sobs silently.

Suddenly he feels her hand on his back. When he looks up, he sees that Carrie is crying too. Quickly he gets up and takes her in his arms. Her sobbing increases, so he pulls her as close as her huge belly allows. He comforts her by gently rubbing her back. His cheek is now resting against her head. He can smell a faint scent of lemon shampoo. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. 'If I could only bring him back to you.'

They continue to hold each other until Quinn feels a strong kick. He releases his grip and stares down on Carrie's belly. When he looks up to her, he sees a little smile.

"The baby just kicked me, maybe I've hurt her."

"I think she likes being held." She smiles again, her face still tear stained.

"May I touch …" He stops talking, afraid to intimidate her. But Carrie takes his hand and puts it gently on her belly. It's just a little gesture, but Quinn enjoys the intimacy of the moment. And another kick gives this fucking gray day a better end.


	2. Chapter - Birthday party

**Birthday party**

Some days are needless. Not worth to think about. Birthdays could be such days, at least if you don't have someone to share them.

Langley isn't a busy place that day. Which doesn't suit Quinn's plans. Because it gives him time to think about his fucking life, the fucking CIA, about Carrie.

Damn Carrie, she is the only reason that he is still stuck at Langley. He had an offer from Saul to work for him. A chance to get away. But he turned it down. Because he enjoys working with Carrie. He has never seen a better intelligence officer than her. He's fascinated by the contrariness of her character, this appealing mixture of passionate obsession, ruthlessness and vulnerability. Maybe it's part of her illness. He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He still would feel the need to protect her, to be close to her. Her pregnancy has increased this wish. And there's also a slight hope inside him that one day he could be more than her most reliable co-worker.

But there are those damn days where everything pisses him off. He's even angry at Carrie. Because she has been businesslike the fucking whole day, occupied by her future life in Istanbul. A future that doesn't involve him. At least she hasn't asked him yet to join the team which already contains Galvez and Fara.

_'__Fuck you, Carrie.'_ He decides to bury the day at his favorite bar. Having some drinks alone until his head is blunt enough. Because that's what he's usually doing at his birthday.

* * *

"You like to join me? Pizza at my house?"

A question out of the blue.

They haven't talked the whole day.

"You're asking me for a date?" He teases her.

"Bah. I am just starving and need someone to pay for." She smiles back at him. "But if you have other plans."

"Pizza sounds great." He replies quickly and with a meaningful look at her huge belly he jokes. "I've got enough cash to pay you the family size."

She's rolling her eyes at him, but ignores to comment.

* * *

An hour later they are both sitting on the floor with their backs leaning against Carrie's couch, both fed up with pizza.

"That was great." Carrie sighs satisfied, pressing a cushion against her pregnant belly.

"That's useless. You can't hide it." He points at her belly that's barely covered.

The cushion hits his face.

"Fuck you, Quinn. That isn't funny." She barks at him, but there are little sparkles of joy in her eyes.

She grabs the cushion from his hand and puts it back on her belly.

A challenging gaze as if she's waiting for another teasing.

But he's just Mister Nice Guy and grabs another cushion. "Take that behind your back to support you."

"That's suspicious." She states at his sudden care, squinting her eyes. "Are you planning something?"

"I'm just nice, Carrie." He smiles about the distrust in her face.

"Yeah, reliable, responsible, restrained. Oh, come on Quinn. This is fucking boring." She gives him a short punch in his side.

"You think I am boring?" He is a little bit annoyed now.

"You are a masterpiece of self-control. Is there a modicum of hope for …" she pauses, her head lies on the couch. Her eyes are piercing him.

He stares back at her. "A hope for…?"

"I don't know. Maybe something breathtaking, something zany, wild, senseless."

"You want me wild?" He moves a little closer and looks at her mouth in expectance. '_This is getting interesting._'

_'__That's dangerous territory.' _She grabs his spiky hair and pulls him playfully away.

'_Keep him on distance before you do something stupid._'

"I'm out of game, cowboy." She points at her belly, trying to restore the teasing mood.

"So, no pity sex for me?" He jokes back. "Not even at my birthday?"

"It's your birthday? You're kidding." She looks surprised.

"No, I am not. It's my birthday."

"Why didn't you say a thing? You even paid the pizza. And I don't have a present for you."

"Carrie, it's ok. I don't expect a present. I enjoyed our evening. It's just fine." He hugs her arm.

She is serious now. Calm and thoughtful. Then she kisses him. It's just a soft peck on his lips. But enough to shift his world a little.


	3. Chapter - D-Day

**D-Day**

Quinn is still at Carrie's house. They are watching college football on TV. He's drinking beer while Carrie contents herself with tea. She has lain down on the more comfortable couch. Her head is resting on a cushion. Quinn sits right in front of her on the floor. From time to time she's tousling his hair. Just as if she wants to confirm he's still there. It's a calm and relaxed mood between them.

Suddenly Carrie groans. There's a dragging pain in her back that causes her to get up. An early sign of false labor?

"What is it?" He asks with concern.

"I don't know. I just feel a dragging in my back." There's a little panic in her voice. "I better go to bed to get some rest."

"Let me help you." He helps her up and together they walk upstairs.

"You can leave, Quinn. I am ok." She tells him as they enter her bedroom.

"You're sure? I can sleep on the couch."

She wants to tell him she's fine, but she can't speak. Another intense pain in her back and side causes her to hunch down. She clings to his arm to keep her balance. Her facing is showing her increasing fear. He immediately reacts and puts both arms around her to steady her.

"Carrie, I don't think you should be alone right now." He gently leads her to the bed, pulls back the blanket and helps her to lie down. Then he pulls the blanket over her body.

"I will be downstairs. Just call for me if you need something." He softly touches her cheek to calm her, but he sees she's still frightened. It's written all over her face.

He only makes it to the door, when she begs him: "Quinn, please stay with me."

"Sure Carrie."

He walks back to the other side of the bed and lies down next to her.

He moves close behind her and supports her with his body to relieve her weight. His hand is resting on her arm, but she takes it and pulls it around her. It's a strange kind of spooning. It's also intimate, but his thoughts are only occupied with his concern for Carrie.

It takes only few minutes then she's sleeping. He waits until her breathing is soundly and even. Then he slowly drifts off into sleep himself.

* * *

A slap at his chest wakes him up. At first he doesn't know where he is. Then he remembers. He is at Carrie's house, in her bed. A painful groan wakes him up completely.

While he turns on the bedside light, he asks her: "Carrie, what's the matter?"

It's three O'clock in the morning.

"I don't know, Quinn. Something's wrong. The baby. It hurts so much."

She is holding her belly. Her face is cramped by pain and fear.

He's getting up at once.

"I take you to the hospital. Do you have a bag prepared?"

She shakes her head.

"Fuck no. It's still two weeks to go. Fuck this is hurting so much."

"Well, the baby has something different in mind. Tell me, where I find everything."

He walks to her closet.

"There's a bag in the left closet. And in the upper drawer you find a nightgown and underwear."

He grabs the bag, then opens the drawer and takes everything she has requested.

"You also need towels, your cosmetics and medicine." He looks at her.

"The towels are in the right closet. The beauty case is in the bathroom. Put everything inside you find in the right mirror cabinet."

When he's done, he shows her what he has put into the beauty case.

"It's ok. We got everything." She sinks back into the cushion.

"Do you have some clothes for the baby, diapers, or anything else?" He asks back.

"No, I haven't been able to buy a thing." She confesses to him. "My sister brought some stuff, but it's nothing what you can use for a newborn."

There's a guilty look on her face now. But Quinn has not the heart to bawl her. He knows that she's more than reluctant to become a mother. And her dad's death has left a huge gap in her life.

"Don't worry, Carrie. We can take care of that later."

Carefully he helps her to get up and with a steady grip he guides her downstairs and into his car.

* * *

On the way to the hospital he asks her if he should call her sister for support.

"No, let's wait what the doctor is saying. Maybe it's false alarm."

Her hands are on the side of her belly. Another sharp pain makes her bend forward.

"Fuck, this is wrong. I am not ready."

"Take a deep breath, Carrie. We will be there in a minute." He steps on the gas.

* * *

He stops at the emergency exit of the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. A paramedic approaches the car, but Quinn is already out of the car and opens Carrie's door to help her out.

A second paramedic helps her into a wheelchair. Together they head to the Mother and Infant Care Center.

An older nurse in duty asks Quinn: "Since when does your wife have contractions?"

He doesn't correct her mistake.

"She has been in some pain since late evening. But now it's worse."

As if she wants to confirm it, Carrie starts to groan and cramp again.

The nurse takes a short look at her. Then she moves her into examination room 4.

"I will check on the baby's vitals. Your water has broken?"

"Yes, when I stepped out of the car."

Quinn hasn't recognized it, but now he sees the wet stains on her yoga pants. Confusion is spread over his face. The nurse comments this with a frown.

With a cautious gaze on the nurse he asks Carrie: "Shall I call your sister for support?"

"Young man, don't think you can steal away from this." The nurse bawls at him angrily.

Carrie is amused by their conversation, but does nothing to help him out of his bashfulness.

"I won't." He tries to find the right words to justify himself. "But maybe she doesn't want me there."

"Nonsense."

End of discussion.

* * *

The baby's heartbeat sounds through the room. It's a magic sound. Overwhelming. At least for Quinn who hasn't heard it before.

Dr. Christine, Carrie's doctor, is satisfied with the result of the examination.

"Your cervix is already open 2.4 inches. That means we will get you in your room and make you ready."

Quinn knows Carrie is terrified by these words. He can tell by the look in her eyes. He squeezes her hand to support her and calm her down.

When the doctor has left, he tells: "Everything will be fine. You will see."

But he sees the doubt in her eyes.

* * *

The birthing room is bright and friendly, providing a warm, home-like environment.

The nurse helps Carrie to sit down on the birthing bed.

Quinn tries not to peek at Carrie, while the nurse gets her undressed and changed into the hospital's gown. Instead he occupies himself with unpacking her bag. Then he calls Maggie.

* * *

"You called her?" Carrie's face is cramped by the pain of another contraction.

"She's on her way. But it might take some time, till she gets her. She has to make an arrangement for the kids. Bill is on a business trip."

She squeezes his hand.

"Jesus, Quinn. Fuck. I'm not sure if I can wait for her."

"Don't worry. I am here for you. As long as you wish." He hugs her cheek.

"I ruined your birthday." She's close to tears.

"You don't. I had a wonderful birthday. And by the way it's already over."

He smiles at her.

* * *

"Let's see how far you are." The midwife checks on Carrie's cervix. "3.9., that's good. You're ready, darling. Your baby will be in your arms within an hour."

She turns towards the nurse. "Betsy, please prepare the bed."

* * *

He is turned towards her. Looking at her, talking to her in a soft voice, holding her hand to offer his support, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Concentrating just on her.

He never has felt more helpless.

Another contraction makes her face grimaced with pain. She squashes his hand a little harder. He doesn't feel it.

"Just another pressing, my dear." The midwife commands her. "I can see your baby's head already. With the next contraction you have to breathe in and press as hard as possible."

"I can't." Carrie cries out. "It hurts so much."

"I know that, but we need another push." The midwife shows no mercy.

"Carrie my heart, listen to me. Just one more time. Then you're done." Quinn tenderly caresses her cheek. Wiping the tears from her eyes.

Carrie's painful groaning fills the room. The next contraction has started. She pinches her nails into Quinn's palm. Then she screams.

"Good girl. You're doing fine. There's the baby's head. No more pressing, darling."

The midwife carefully takes the head with both hands and turns it slowly. One shoulder slips out, then the second. A priming sound. And the baby's body slips out. The midwife holds her up and gives her a short slap on the back.

"Breathe, little baby, breathe."

Small angry cries fill the room as little Mathison intakes her first breath.

"Welcome to the world."


End file.
